


Lesson Learned

by thalialunacy



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Breathplay, M/M, Summer Pornathon, Unresolved Sexual Tension, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one with the breathing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lesson Learned

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: non-genital erogenous zone

When Arthur had been very young, a knight that hadn't even been his favourite had given him a piece of unasked for advice. 'Focus on your breath,' he'd said. 'It is all you have, in the end. And it is all you need.'

Arthur had disregarded it, until the first time he'd been bested so hard by an opponent that the air had been thumped from his lungs, exiting his body the very moment his body needed it most.

On his knees, gasping like a fish, Arthur had gained wisdom he would hold close to his breast the remainder of his days.

\---

Here's a coil: Merlin does his very best to demonstrate a complete lack of care about proper space.

Arthur can withstand a lot, of course he can, but this manservant with his habit of hovering clumsily… 'Merlin,' Arthur murmurs firmly, crossing his arms and trying not to attract any undue attention. His fingers twitch when Merlin leans in closer. 'Step back, please.'

'Sorry,' Merlin whispers, not sorry at all but stepping back, just far enough that Arthur can no longer feel warm, wined breath upon his neck.

For here's another coil: Merlin is only a little bit taller than Arthur.

Mildly appeased, Arthur breathes in, breathes out. Ignores the heat that is spreading from the back of his neck to the rest of his limbs, making him languorous and itchy all together.

But Merlin with wine is a Merlin who forgets, a Merlin who drops even more things, a Merlin who repeatedly stands much too close, despite further scoldings. A Merlin who tonight delights in leaning into Arthur and chuckling around indelicate comments to do with the guests in the hall.

By the end of the celebrations, Arthur's jaw hurts from suppressing a smile. He's never been so glad to get back to his chambers and dismiss his red-cheeked manservant.

When Merlin disappears through the second door, Arthur inhales and exhales deeply, unsurprised to find the stream of air shaky, uneven, unsettled. He sheds his clothes and lumps them in a pile, uncaring of everything but getting to his bed, which welcomes him with comfort and warmth and the lingering scent that Arthur swears is Merlin, Merlin and wine but that might just be Arthur's body wishing these things, Arthur's breath focused on Merlin's breath, warm and humid and gliding across his skin, across the tiny hairs and pores and sweat and pulses of life…

Arthur groans and takes himself in hand, closing his eyes. All he has to do is imagine Merlin's breath running all over his body and he's hard, wanting to rut against his sheets like he's still in his thirteenth summer.

He feels his breaths grow heavier, and shifts, shifts until his head hangs off the bed. His airways constrict pleasantly and yes, yes, that is all he needs, his hand moving strongly against his cock, the other clenched in the sheets, eyes shut, pictures playing against his eyelids, of waves and fields and dark hair and an open mouth, until there are starbursts there and he's coming, spending onto his hand and stomach and sheets.

His chest heaves and he sits up immediately, the air rushing back into his lungs with a hiss, his eyes opening wide, sweat prickling at his hairline. He feels most indubitably, most indelicately, and most gloriously _alive_.

\---

'Sire…'

Arthur feels, rather than hears, the word, as warm air wafts across the back of his neck. Unbidden, his body curls into the pillows with a shudder. He covers with a grumble: 'Merlin, whatever it is, it's too early for it.'

He can imagine Merlin's insufferable grin, imagines him filled with damnable energy while Arthur's hiding under his covers like a child.

He's startled when hot air splays against his neck once more. He doesn't dare move, doesn't react, doesn't reach up, is certain if he does it will prove be a trick of his mind, running through his fingers like smoke.

He schools the air in his lungs, arranges his face appropriately, and sits up. He sees just what he expected: his manservant bustling about as he should be, nattering on as he always does…

Except that when he turns, Arthur sees a flash of amusement in his eyes, of mischief, of understanding, on his face. It's gone nearly instantly, Merlin's mouth instead open and filling up the room with words like always.

Well, Arthur thinks. This manservant may not be as useless as he seems.

A most jumbled coil, indeed.


End file.
